


An Ode to Love Lost

by newmoons



Category: Twilight (Movies), Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 03:17:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newmoons/pseuds/newmoons





	An Ode to Love Lost

Leah doesn’t know why she remembers, but she still knows Angela’s birthday like it’s the password to her phone.

She doesn’t know why it’s so ingrained in her head that she should care, that any of this matters and that any of it means something.

Because it doesn’t.

And Angela’s not coming back.

But Leah keeps checking her phone and remembering the cute names they gave each other; she remembers erasing that contact when Angela said there was nothing to fix, when she tried and begged for Angela to listen to her.

Angela’s voice was shaky with the ghost of determination as she asked Leah to stop calling her. Leah doesn’t know why she remembers, when it hurt so bad. What sick part of her is keeping up with Angela? What part of Leah wants that pain so bad– or, let her clarify, wants to remember that pain so bad?

She gets it; she does. They were destined for each other at one point– when did that change, again?– and exuded that in everything that they were. In public Angela and Leah held hands, so nobody could guess wrong and approach one of them. More so for Leah, to determine that Angela was hers, and no one could take Angela from her if she were holding her there beside her.

But Leah doesn’t know why she remembers, and why it is so important, the picture she took on Christmas Eve when Angela’s mother and brother were decorating the tree with her. She remembers posting “A Christmas at the Webber house”.

Leah doesn’t know why she remembers, why some distant part of her bothers to keep tabs on some ghost from three or four years ago now– four? Yes, four– and this trait follows through with the rest of them that filed up behind her in single columns. Her, and her, and them, and him. All behind Angela, like some bar they’ll never reach.

Angela had always been the best of them: the beautiful star student, the most popular in their school, that Leah had somehow managed to get to stay. Leah always thought of Angela that way: some sort of blessing or gift from the heavens, some sign at least someone was looking out for her.

But Leah guessed she didn’t show that enough, and she knew that now. She could look back and actually cringe to know some of the things she did and said to Angela. And looking back now, Angela was a goddess the more for putting up with her.

But god, was Angela beautiful, and what she wouldn’t give to be back in that room with the white curtains falling in front of the sun, sipping coffee and taking pictures by the windowsill.

Leah doesn’t know why she remembers, but she does, and she remembers the broken shades covering them from the night, where only Angela’s room seemed to exist in any time or space.

She remembers the nights they spent pressed together, rolling over just to pull each other back in.

She doesn’t know why she remembers, why her brain has picked these moments to pluck out and save amongst so many others: family reunions, her dog, new relationships, new friendships; these things, useful to her, that passed by like water under a bridge, slipping by the embedded rocks untouched by corrosion in the riverbed.

How did Angela get to be so close to her? She doesn’t know why she remembers when it’s useless, nothing good can come of it. After all, it’s been three– no, four– years and Angela has moved on and someone else is in her place now. She supposes it makes her weak, having held on for so long.

But of course Angela didn’t, an angel; angels don’t think badly of anyone.

The thought used to haunt Leah, when she imagined Angela explaining who Leah used to be to who Angela would be with for the rest of her life. Like she was someone in passing, someone from Angela’s past. Solidly, undeniably no longer a position in Angela’s life.

That would break her heart.

And now Leah supposes Angela has gotten someone for the rest of forever, and she knows how Angela must love him– did she love Leah like that? She supposes Angela had, but she stopped, didn’t she?

Well, Leah knew Angela was happy now, and that should calm her. And it does, for now, and she can’t stop thinking, and she can’t figure it out, why she can’t be Angela’s friend after all this time.

After all, she still doesn’t even know why she remembers.


End file.
